God Save the Queen (4 page)

Chapter 7

The Dream

             
That night I settled into my new room. Although I wasn’t really sure how I was going to feel about all this change, I thought that maybe I should just give it a chance. One thing was for sure: my new bed didn’t need any getting used to.
Oh, yeah,
I thought as I luxuriated in the lushness of the comforter,
I will totally give this a chance
. Just as my head was about to hit the pillow, there was a knock on my door.
Ugh!
I got out of my comfy bed and made the long walk to the imposing doors of my bedchamber. I opened one of the doors with so much anger that I was surprised the hinges didn’t come off. After the shock of my strength wore off, I saw Kevin standing in front of me, looking every bit as amazed as I was.

             
“Umm…” he started wearily, “I just wanted to drop off your itinerary for tomorrow…” As he handed me the manila envelope, he kept his eyes still on the door, probably stunned that I wasn’t holding it my hand.

             
“Are you serious?” I was kind of irritated, ripping the paper from his grasp. He got me out of bed and I think he knew it too. “
That’s
the reason you got me out of bed?”

             
He nodded.

             
“Wait, weren’t you going to give it to me in the morning?” It was a good question, and I knew I was going to stump him. There was no way he was going to have a comeback.

             
“I thought so too, but it doesn’t look like it now. I won’t be seeing you until noon. If you look at your sheet, it’s stated right there.”

             
Okay, he had a comeback.

             
Yep, there it was, right on the sheet. I hated it when Kevin was right. However, I decided that I wasn’t going to let it get to me tonight. I was too tired to fight, or even look for one.

             
“All right, thanks…. I guess.” Kevin looked amazed at my thanks, even though my “I guess” was dripping with sarcasm so thick you could pour it over ice cream. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed.” And with that I slammed the door in his face, just in case he didn’t get the message.

*
              *              *

             
My head hit the pillow and I slowly fell into deep slumber, wrapping the comforter so tightly around me that I thought this was probably what a cocoon felt like. Safe, protected, and warm. That was when my dream began.

             
It started as I walked through my old house, which looked a bit different than when I had last left it. It looked like my house when I was about five. Maybe four. It’s funny that you just accept things like that when you’re dreaming; you never think, “Hold on, we got rid of this wallpaper years ago…” No, you just go with it.

Anyway,
I heard voices coming from the dining room, so I slowly headed there, feeling a bit fretful of what I would see. And when I got there I could feel the tears coming to my eyes.

             
Right in front of me were my mother and my father, each holding one end of a cake with a huge number 5 candle. I could tell it was my mother by the way she delicately brushed her light brown hair away from her face with her little finger. As soon as she did it, I was overcome with emotion, because I had forgotten that gesture of hers, as well as that diamond--or should I say, boulder--on her left-hand ring finger. My father always splurged on my mother, and on me as well. We were his “ladies,” he called us; we were his whole world. He reminded us of that every day.

             
My father was standing with the biggest smile I had seen in years, and his light blue eyes were sparkling with happiness. One of his hands was hiding something behind his back, and as I run to the side to peek, I saw it was a gift-wrapped in light pink paper with a purple ribbon.

             
They placed the gift on the table in front of this five-year-old girl, with my mother’s brown hair and my father’s eyes and smile. Her hair was in little brown pigtails, each held in place with little pink ribbons. She smiled broadly at the cake and I saw that both of her front teeth were missing. It was clear that she had dressed herself, because she was wearing an orange dress with purple pants. Did it really take that long for me to realize that the little girl I was staring at was me?

             
I was stunned by the sight that I was looking at. I tried to remember when this happened. I normally remembered all my memories of my parents. Every cut my mother kissed “to make it better,” every time my father would attempt to sing. It was so clear to me right now just thinking about those times, standing here in this dream. Still I couldn’t remember this one moment in my life. Then, when I blew out the candle, I realized the significance of what was happening around me. It was my
fifth
birthday. It became apparent to me now. No wonder I never remembered this, because it never happened.

             
I also began to remember that I had this dream many times after my parents passed away. They died right before my fifth birthday--a week, to be exact. And I remember thinking that this was going to be my best, my most perfect birthday ever. I really didn’t want anything, just us. I had told them that, I just wanted them and me, for ever and ever, and they didn’t even have to wrap it. Linda was going to come by later and celebrate with us.

After their funeral, I was looking through their closet and I found all the things that I had wanted, the pink and purple streamers, the balloons with the glitter in them, and the silly hats that I had begged them for. I had them right there in front of me. So I kept all the stuff until my fifth birthday.

              On the day of my birthday, I was actually fine. Nothing seemed to bother me. Then I heard a knock on the door, so I went to open it and there was the man with my cake. Linda took it and placed on the dining room table. I stared at it for a while, and I remember thinking, it was
almost
the perfect birthday.
Almost.
Then I snapped.

The next thing I knew, Linda had her arms around me, whispering in my ear that everything was going to be fine, but I had to stop, just stop, please stop. But stop what? I didn’t know what she was talking about! Then I looked down and saw that I was stomping on my birthday cake. My shoes were covered with frosting and bits of cake and what was left I was stomping into the rug.

After I was done killing the cake of my dreams, I ran upstairs and went to destroy the rest of my
almost
perfect birthday. I ripped up all of the streamers and I stomped on all of the hats, flattening them completely. I was trying to pop the balloons by ripping them apart, when Linda walked in. She scooped me up and tried to cradle me, but I wouldn’t have it. I wanted to kill every last reminder of my supposed-to-be perfect birthday, but also of my parents. After all, who can a five-year-old blame for the death of her parents? It was my parents who shielded me from such ugliness in the world. How could they let this happen? How could they leave me alone? I was blinded by rage and unhappiness, or perhaps just the tears that wouldn’t stop spilling from my eyes. I finally gave in to Linda’s strong embrace and collapsed in her arms, shaking with every breath. This couldn’t have happened, I told myself, it couldn’t, it
couldn’t!

After I had calmed down, Linda and I went downstairs and she tried to coax me into eating, but I wouldn’t. What was the point?  It took another six hours of tears and bouts of madness until I finally collapsed and fell asleep. And I slept for two days straight. After that day, I never had a birthday party again. I always made sure of that. I made a point of never telling people when my birthday was, just to prevent and traumatic surprise parties.

             
Even though I never had a birthday party after that, this dream would always haunt me on every birthday that I had. And every time I would wake up crying, knowing as if for the first time that my dream birthday never happened. And it was always the same. We would celebrate my birthday the exact way that I wanted it and then Linda would show up and just as I would begin to open my presents, I would wake up, never knowing what it was underneath the pretty wrapping paper. Was it the sweater that I really wanted for my teddy? Or was it some new outfit my father got for me, that would either be way too tight, or I would be swimming in it? I never found out.

             
What was strange was that I was having this dream
now.
My birthday wasn’t for another seven months, so why now? I wasn’t thinking of any of this while I was dreaming, of course, continued to watch the dream I had seen millions of times before.

             
Then suddenly something changed. My mother looked up at me--the real me, not the little girl in pigtails and the mismatched outfit. Then my mother beckoned me over to the table. I was not only shocked; I was skeptical. Was this dream going to turn into some horrible nightmare from which I’d wake up screaming and make me afraid to ever sleep again? Still, I walked over to where she was standing.

             
The moment I took my first step towards her, everything changed. Little me was gone, the streamers disappeared, and the cake changed, too. It said
Good Luck
instead of
Happy Birthday.
However, my parents were unchanged.

             
As I approached my mother, she opened her arms to me. I didn’t care if a rabid horse-cow mutant zombie jumped out and scarred me for life. I didn’t care. When I hugged her, and although you’re not supposed to, I felt the warmth of my mother for the first time in almost fourteen years. As she ruffled my hair, I felt my father come in and join the embrace. I was hugging both my parents. This wasn’t a figment of my imagination. They were real.

             
After a while my mother’s velvet tone spoke out: “Dear, listen.” I looked up to her perfect face. “Anya, you need to be here. I know that it was hard for you to leave, but sweetie…” She held my face in her hands. “We all have to make sacrifices sometimes. I mean, look at us,” I didn’t like where this was going and I started shaking my head furiously. “No, Anya, listen. Your father and I knew exactly what we were getting into. In fact, we’d been expecting it much sooner.” There were tears in her eyes as she went on, “So we soaked up every memory we could with you.” My father was now standing next to her and he began to talk. “Now, you know I don’t ever demand things, but sweetie, listen,” he said, his face suddenly stern. “You are going to stay here and you will learn everything they teach you. And you must try to stay safe. That means you must listen to what they tell you, and yes, that includes Kevin.”

             
Kevin? Great. Now he was ruining my perfect dream, too. “Give him a chance, Anya,” my father said. “He’s not all bad, I can promise you that.” I nodded, thinking that I wasn’t sure how I would keep this up. But I would
try
.

             
Then everything started getting brighter. I knew what this meant; I was waking up.

             
No!
I thought to myself.
I’m tired, exhausted even
. But it wasn’t stopping! I won’t let it! Both my parents looked at me, but they were smiling. “Don’t worry, honey,” my mother said as she hugged me one last time. “We will see you again, I promise.” Then suddenly she was gone and it was just my father who was embracing me. “And remember, we are always with you.” He kissed my forehead and then he too was gone. And then everything was bright.

             
I sat up straight in my bed, sweating slightly. It was so real! They were with me, really with me, and I knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. And then I bent over and began to cry, but not tears of sorrow, though. At long last, I was crying tears of happiness.

Chapter 8

Halloween

             
“Is everything clear?
Bon aimable!
Anya, are you even paying attention?” LaGard was looking at me with angry eyes. He never was really happy, but especially when I wasn’t paying attention, which was almost always.

             
We were at the meeting discussing the Halloween masquerade party and LaGard had just finished when I decided to pay full attention. I had gotten
some
of what he was saying--how it was my first public appearance and stuff like that. But now he wanted to quiz me? It always irritated me when he wanted to test my patience.

             
“Yes, I was,” I said in an almost too-sweet tone, “You were talking about the proper etiquette when being asked to dance. And before that you were talking about the unmasking rule.” He seemed astounded at my sudden powers of recollection (no more than I!), so he quickly resumed his senseless babbling and I resumed not paying attention while Kevin sat beside me being a…well, a LaGard pet.

             
Being nicer to Kevin was still a challenge to me. I was trying, but it was like trying to climb Mount Everest. Not impossible, but hard, very hard. I would do the little things, like force a smile. But a forced smile is always obvious, even if you don’t mean it to be, and actually comes off looking contemptuous. I didn’t actually
hate
Kevin, but I was still angry with him, and I really didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he was the bearer of bad news, the one who told me I was leaving my peaceful, blessedly humdrum life. The whole “kill the messenger” thing. That might have been it. Well, that and the fact that he’d more or less admitted his profound hatred of me. Also the fact that somehow he’d barged uninvited into my perfect dream wasn’t helping his standing in my estimation. So even though I was trying, or I
thought
I was trying, it was going at a snail’s pace. Now that I was thinking about it, the only good thing that I did was that I said thank you…once. And even then I think he sensed the bitterness behind it.

             
So I continued to zone out, thinking about the ball tomorrow. There were a lot more rules than your average high school prom. Okay, they were traditions, but it amounted to the same thing: things I’d better remember to get right or else I’d either look like a buffoon or cause an international incident. There was a certain way to do things--a million little things. First, you couldn’t really talk to anyone. Crazy, I know, but no one was allowed to know who you were at a masquerade ball until the unmasking, and merely speaking could give your identity away. And everyone had to wear a dark outfit with a mask. Apparently it added to the eerie Halloween vibe. Then, if a man wanted to ask a woman to dance, he had to bow and present the woman his right hand. It had to be the right hand because if he presented his left hand, then the world would come to an end, I suppose. If she didn’t want to dance, she would have to shake her head no. How very old school. If she did want to dance, then she would take his hand and allow him to lead her to the dance floor.

             
Oh, and there was the number-one rule. The unmasking rule. This rule was a careful one. You don’t unmask for just anyone. You have to get a feel for this person first. This is because the unmasking rule states the following: When you find someone you want to spend the rest of the ball with, you unmask them and he must unmask you. Even if he didn’t want to. And if it turns out it’s someone you don’t want to spend the rest of the ball with, that’s just too bad, because now you’re stuck with him. Once someone makes the crazy decision to unmask, there’s no turning back. So I thought, I just won’t unmask anyone. That’s when I started to listen and heard LaGard’s curveball for my brilliant plan. “You
must
unmask someone by midnight. You
must
.” These balls aren’t just about dancing anymore.

*
              *              *

             
The next day was insane. I grabbed an apple in the kitchen, but the kitchen was buzzing like a beehive in preparation for the Halloween masquerade ball, and Mrs. Rontes couldn’t have pushed me out the door any faster. And as she threw me out she muttered that if I got hungry, then I was going to have to go hunting or wait until dinner. So I made every bite of my apple last as I walked into the South Grand Hall to check out the decorations.

             
It was suitably eerie and creepy. I really felt like I was in a haunted house, and yet, it still was able to remain elegant. The windows had black ripped sheet-like curtains with golden regular curtains hanging next to them. All the lighting fixtures were being covered with fake cobwebs, and every other light fixture was purple light. Maybe that would make the room look darker than it was already going to be, since the ball was at night to begin with. All the tables were set up, and in the middle of each was a candelabrum, where real candles were going to be lit. There was a huge open area which I assumed was where the dance floor would be. There was also a tiered platform set with chairs and music stands where the band would play. No amplifiers or speakers in sight, so it probably wasn’t going to be heavy metal, hip-hop, disco, or Top 40. Maybe something retro, like big band music of the 1940s? Or maybe an older, less hip band style… an oompah band? Polka band? Or better yet, an orchestra playing Johann Strauss waltzes like “The Beautiful Blue Danube” or “Tales of the Vienna Woods.” It really wasn’t my idea of dance music, but I’d take it.

             
Although I had been in the palace for over two weeks, I really hadn’t taken a good look around. And since I didn’t have to get ready for another three hours, I thought this would be a good time to explore the castle a little more. Every room had its own name, but I hadn’t learned them yet. So as I walked through hall after hall, I made up names of my own. There was Cherub Hall, because the whole hall had little chubby cherubim and seraphim decorating the walls and ceiling. Next there was the Scarlet Room, because of the deep scarlet wallpaper with rich gold trim. I had finally entered what I found out was called, La Salle de Délicates, a room filled with china figurines that looked so fragile that I was afraid to touch anything, when I literally ran right into Kevin.

             
I hit the ground with a huge thud, so loud that I thought that maybe I had broken the floor. If not the floor, then my head, which began spinning the minute I lifted it. Now that I was sitting up, I was at least expecting Kevin to extend his hand towards me to help me off the floor. But he simply picked up his dropped paperwork and began walking away. “Incredible,” I mumbled. “Thanks for the help. Really appreciate it.”

             
That stopped him cold. He turned and rolled his eyes. “Oh, forgive me. Your Royal Bratiness,” he said. Before I could even utter a gasp of surprise, he went on: “What are you, a porcelain doll that needs to be taken to the doll hospital? If someone knocked you down in your high school hallway, you’d have gotten up and dusted yourself off. No--let me finish. You need to hear this because if I don’t tell you, no one else will.” He took a deep breath before continuing in a growling, low baritone. “You went from teenager to princess overnight, but you never grew up. Never. And here’s the thing, Anya. You
need
to grow up. It’s inevitable, but better sooner than later. Because until you do, you’ll never rule.”

             
I looked at him for a millisecond before erupting. “What are you getting at? That I’m not an adult? Kevin, perhaps you could try and get your head around this fact, and I will understand if you can’t, but indulge me. My parents died when I was four, almost five. That meant not only that I had to grow up sooner than everyone else, but I also had to grow up without the guidance of my parents. So before you tell me that I’m a spoiled brat, maybe you should think about the day that your soul died.” This time I turned on my heels and walked off.

             
“You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” he said behind me, and when I wheeled around he was gone; all that was left were the sounds of his angry footsteps disappearing in the distance.

             
I quickly returned the way I had come. The fight was over and I done exactly what I wanted to do. I spoke my mind. And the fact that it aggravated Kevin was an added bonus. Still, I knew that I was going to see him at the ball tonight, and he might still be raging. He would probably confront me with another angry outburst. Well, I’d just have to avoid him. If I could recognize him, that is. Great. It was time to get ready for a night of craziness.

*
              *              *

             
Getting ready was the most painstaking experience of my entire life. The minute I walked into my room, I was bombarded by fifteen people trying to redirect me in a million different stations at once. The first station I had to put up with was my least favorite: Hair. I knew that this was going to be torture, but you don’t know the meaning of the word unless you’ve had your hair manhandled, or should I say women-handled, by two ladies-in-waiting working on your hair at once. The upside was, once your head goes completely numb, the hair-grooming process goes by much faster.

             
I’d never had my hair done in a really elegant style before. Last year for prom my hair stylist suggested an towering Empire style with the addition of false hairpieces, but I chickened out and asked her to just make my hair a little curlier than it already was. Then again, I wasn’t a princess getting ready for a ball. In the end, I really liked the way my hair came out, no matter how much it hurt.

             
After slightly curling my hair, the two women piled most of my hair up on top and held it in place with gold-and-pearl hair clips. Then they somehow contorted it into some strange bun-type thing that no normal human being could accomplish without major help. The rest of my hair was let down in wisps. As I looked at myself in the mirror I realized that this hairdo would fit the whole Halloween aspect of this party perfectly. There was a sense like I had stepped out of another century. Or out of a crypt. I wasn’t really into the whole eerie, vampire-slash-werewolf Halloween thing. On other people, maybe, but when I dress up for a party, I want to look good, not like road kill. But there was something about Halloween that naturally brought out the darker inner spirit in me. And because of this reason, I was very excited to get my makeup done.

             
So I was relieved that my makeup team didn’t paint a huge fake gash on the side of my face or put Frankenstein bolts on the sides of the head. By the time they were finished, I was amazed. They had somehow managed to make me look pretty.

             
Oh, did I mention my self-esteem issues?

             
They accented my eyes with a very pretty light-blue liner, and my eyelids were covered in an almost purplish eye shadow. Next they put on a thin layer of deep red lipstick, and for the final touch, they made my face, as well as any other visible skin, slightly pale, almost ghost-like. They finished up by added a bright pink blush on my checks for just a little bit of color.

             
When the women directed me towards a mirror, and I finally saw myself in the reflection, I was really shocked--and yes, maybe a little scared. I had never considered myself drop-dead gorgeous and had never dressed or made up to be. I was okay with the modest bit on makeup that I used and the occasional stylish hairdo, but that was it. Now that I looked at my reflection, I thought the mirror was lying. Or the light in the room was amazingly flattering. I looked…well, beautiful.

             
My trance was soon interrupted by Mari and Avery pulling me away from the mirror and pushing me into yet another station to get ready. Thankfully this part of my transformation was not as time-consuming, but it was the most important. It was the masking.               I know that sounds ridiculous--I mean, it’s just a mask, right? All you have to do is just put it on. I thought the same thing, but once again I was wrong. The mask had to be able to stay on my face and cover it, but not be a hassle to pull of if someone wanted to unmask me. This was a heavy, decorative antique mask, not a streamlined, twenty-first-century model made for ease of wear. Tiny bits of adhesive backing had to be applied to make the mask hold, but not so much that it would be noticeable or remove my makeup when the mask was taken off. While I was trying to figure out exactly how they were going to accomplish this seemingly impossible task of making the mask fit, it was done.